And so to time of festive cheer
sherry trifles, too much beer
party hats and smell of pine
brussel sprouts and pudding wine

presents, mountain of wrapping paper
broken baubles (feline caper)
Alastair Sim, A Christmas Carol
and down the pub for half (a barrel)

frosted windows open fire
all your stomach can desire
turkey sandwich, brandy butter
visit from the family nutter

the expectations, children frisky
daddy drinking santa’s whiskey
brand new socks, a knitted sweater
the face that hoped for something better

but think of the yuletide underbelly
as you sit swearing at the telly
the many who would gladly swap
their lot for scraps on your table top

two office parties and an in-laws visit
the worst you have to deal with is it?
their Christmas all the more laconic
the odd free soup not gin and tonic

in cold apartments, figures slumping
their pain not caused by joyous jumping
their friends who’d never had an inkling
that into the house was into the sinking

the elderly who’ve no son or daughter
and wait for paisley-patterned slaughter
their memories of long-gone years
can but elicit nostalgic tears

for homeless child in temporary shelter
Christmas is a different helter skelter
resource exhausted come January second
and back out to the streets they’re beckoned

walls closing in on mental cell
the tinsel-bedecked personal hells
for those who live their life in dark
the contrast today is ne’er more stark

so as you sit suffused with drink
perhaps you’d like to stop and think
of the many for whom this time of year
embodies solitude and/or fear

it’s not designed to deflate your mood
or put you off your Christmas food
but let’s try ensuring those on the street
get more than just a bite to eat.

Song Of The Day ~ Morning Runner – Gone Up In Flames

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